


still holding on

by allthemeadowswide



Series: Before Colors Broke into Shades [64]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/M, Mention of Eren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 03:32:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13181475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthemeadowswide/pseuds/allthemeadowswide
Summary: “Why are you being so nice to me?”





	still holding on

**Author's Note:**

> Requested anonymously on Tumblr for the meme where you send me a sentence and I write the next 5+. This is largely unedited because I literally just wrote it on the work PC and I'm leaving for vacation for a week. If you notice any mistakes/errors/et cetera please let me know and I'll fix it ASAP!

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Jean asked, the tone in his voice grazing the far side of exhausted.

There was no guile in his expression when she raised her eyes to catch a glimpse of his face, but the question made her blink and she had to almost physically bite back the urge to raise her hand from his to the scarf around her neck. In the tiny battle, her fingers tightened around his.

She watched his eyes flutter closed, a weary sort of reaction. “Mikasa, it’s just a splinter. It’s not a big deal.”

It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t. But sometimes the little things felt terrifyingly large. When she tried to think small all that came to mind was her mother’s garden, and that had become more of a feeling than a memory: sunlight, comfort, warmth: surrounded by something bigger and better than herself.

She lowered her eyes to Jean’s hand again and tried to ignore the way the world felt to her now: cold with bright spots that reminded her of the little sunbeams that had played over the rug in her mountain home during the long winters. What she wouldn’t give to see the world blanketed in that kind of warmth.

“Should I be mean?” she made herself ask him, rough nails pressing into his finger, an attempt to push the splinter out. “Cut it out?”

Jean didn’t bother to answer, or maybe he couldn’t. He had changed from the boy he had been, and somewhere in the middle he’d gotten skilled at hiding parts of himself from her—from everyone.

The end of the bit of wood poked out from its hiding place just a fraction, and she frowned, concentrating on it, the silence not quite comfortable. She wanted to say she wasn’t being nice, but that wasn’t the truth; she didn’t have to do this. Jean was capable of taking care of himself. She just liked the fact that it gave her something to do, kept her feeling useful and busy. Lulls in the action left her feeling antsy and afraid, but with a task to do she was unstoppable, almost invincible. She liked to think it was just another way of protecting the things she dared to care about.

She also enjoyed, to some degree, in some measure, spending time with him. Jean tended toward softness in quiet moments, and calm when a situation called for it. He treated her both gently and as an equal; Sasha had once said it meant something when a boy treated you that way, but Jean was a boy no longer, and she wasn’t sure if the truth held when it was about a man.

He was thoughtful, was all, and she liked that about him, the way he quietly let her do what needed to be done and didn’t require too much of her in return.

It was very possible he would like to be told such things, but the first bit, the biggest part, might sting too much, and she wasn’t sure she knew how to put the second one to words. Even though they both spoke their minds without fear in public, something held her back, here, squinting in the lamplight at one of the kitchen tables. It wouldn’t be right to hurt his feelings, to make him feel like less than she knew he was. He deserved more than that from her.

She held her breath as she reached for the splinter tip, now poking out of his finger by a distance she hoped would be enough for her to grab onto. She felt him flinch a little as her nails pinched the very end of the sliver of wood and in one swift yank it was out, and satisfaction washed over her briefly, allowing a smile to lift her mouth for a few moments.

She set the splinter on the table, eyes not quite meeting his.

“I had time to spare,” she said, the words clumsy as they fell out of her mouth. She wasn’t sure if he would understand. She couldn’t afford to care about too many things these days, but he was one of them. She thought of Eren for a moment, and the day he had, in many ways, saved her, and wanted somehow to express to Jean that kindness was good, sometimes—that a stranger’s kindness had changed her entire life and made it better. In light of that sky-covered storm, removing a splinter was a passing cloud.

“Oh,” came his reply after a moment. He didn’t quite sound disappointed, but there was something in his voice that told her he’d hoped for a better explanation.

She couldn’t explain it, though, not the way she wanted to.

“And heart.” She hated how awkward her voice sounded, but at least there was resolve in it. She did mean it, after all.

Jean was silent for a while, watching her face as if he hoped to find more information there. He must have seen something, maybe a bit of the consideration or care or whatever it was she felt for him, because he smiled and said the softest, nicest, “Thank you,” she’d ever heard, and squeezed her hand. She could feel her cheeks warming slightly at the gesture, but she blamed it on the surprise that rippled up her spine. She hadn’t realized she was still holding on.


End file.
